


The Problem With Spies

by Antheaisarealname



Series: Dimensional Crossroad 9 [2]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: DS9 is a point of passage between dimensions, Garak is a Naga, Gen, Julian is a vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:54:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23584948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antheaisarealname/pseuds/Antheaisarealname
Summary: Garak the Naga meets Julian the Vampire. Or does he?
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak, if you squint
Series: Dimensional Crossroad 9 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1697755
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	The Problem With Spies

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a series where Deep Space 9 is a cross-road between dimensions, Julian is a vampire and Garak is a naga. For the moment it's pretty much episodical, but I might develop the concept a bit more in the future.

People had many misconceptions about the kind of work being a spy implied. Across universes, the image that accompanied the profession was that of a reclusive individual, smoking or drinking improbable alcoholic concoctions in dimly-lit abodes, while playing with ciphers and guns. More recently, the glamorous spy had been introduced, all jet-set meetings in casinos, seductions of unaccountably available beautiful young women and the occasional spectacular murder.  
Elim Garak found the first image faintly amusing and the second mildly baffling. Being a spy meant, first and foremost, talking to people. Sure, information was generally stored somewhere and that somewhere was generally hackable with a little patience and skill, but why waste time playing around when you could gather everything you needed to know while having a pleasant conversation? Pleasant being, of course, the operative word; no one liked to speak with unpleasant people, so it was important to present as genial a cover as possible. That pretty much did away with the first stereotype.

The second started, in his humble opinion, due to the common misconception that it was people at the top who knew the juiciest secrets. Oh, he did not doubt for a second that whatever secret the cream possessed was juicy indeed, but he was not about to waste precious time to try and obtain it from people who were much on guard against that very eventuality. No, the best friend of the spy was the middle man; the disgruntled worker; the chatty canteen operator; the efficient-and-proud-of-it junior assistant. These were the people who knew things, did not know they knew them and generally had no qualms in discussing them with a sympathetic colleague, a curious gardener or a funny tailor. Sometimes a harsher hand was needed, and he was ready to rise to the occasion, but for the most part, he managed to fall empires with only a couple of bullets. 

So, when word reached him of a new Chief Medical Officer with an interesting condition (and my, did he love euphemisms), he did not immediately rush to the Infirmary to introduce himself, but made discreet inquiries through the customers of his humble establishment; lovely nurse Veera always did like to chat while waiting for a fitting. Thus, he found out that Dr. Julian Bashir was young-looking, easily excitable and talkative; he also possessed a deep passion for spy stories and had the habit of sitting alone at the Replimat during his lunch hour, reading. Most importantly, he was a vampire.

He immediately started researching vampirism, a subject Nagas were hardly schooled upon considering there was nothing of the sort in their reality. Vampires were said to look young even when unfathomably old, were generally described as cunning, stylish and silver-tongued, with a taste for intrigue. They were also apparently stronger and faster than regular humans, virtually invulnerable and their diet was based entirely on blood. Indeed they sounded like formidable adversaries and, firm in his intention to protect Cardassian interests even from afar, Garak resolved to finally approach his target and check whether he was indeed as dangerous as he sounded.

His first meeting with Dr. Julian Bashir had barely concluded, but Garak was already utterly convinced he was in the presence of a master in his profession. Not only Bashir was aware of the invalidity of the spy stereotypes; he had gone as far as creating a mask for himself more enchanting than Garak’s shimmering lies.

First, his demeanor: expressive eyes on a painfully open face that made him look even younger than he possibly was; smiles than went from boyishly charming to adorably baffled; movements accurately studied to broadcast excitability, spontaneity and the right amount of social awkwardness to look completely harmless. Garak felt himself positively swoon when Bashir’s hands caught on the plant sitting on the table between them. His panicked expression looked so real!

Then, his careful manipulation of perceptions. 

“Would you care for some of this Tarkalean tea?”, he’d charmingly offered, pretending to look for a waiter. His intention was clearly to infer that he was also drinking Tarkalean tea, instead of what was certainly blood, no doubt to look harmless. 

“You are a thoughtful young man!”, Garak had commented, feeling impossibly delighted at the clever, clever game and hoping for a tell on just how old Bashir really was. It was unfortunate his gamble produced no result and that the teasing touch on his shoulders also bore no fruits, apart from being acknowledged with a wonderfully panicked look.

It was, however, the recount of the scene in Ops that allegedly followed the meeting that cemented the Naga’s belief that his new vampire friend was going to be so much fun. The young doctor had run into the station’s center of command, loudly announcing that he’d been approached by the “Cardassian spy” and requesting to be fitted with a transmitter for future encounters. Oh, how clever! He probably expected Garak to have informants; maybe he wanted to try and establish who they were by monitoring how the story would reach him, or maybe he just wanted to pass on a message: “I see you, let’s play!” Giddiness claimed him and he allowed himself to revert to his original serpentine body, tail flicking in amusement and undulating in pleasure. For the first time in many years, he felt excited.

He was glad when Bashir extended his help in dealing with the Tahna Los situation and unsurprised when he then made it a point to make their lunch meetings a regular occasion; his vampiric ally must have also felt the need to keep up with current affairs in a covert way. The fact that he enjoyed discussing literature was an unexpected and very much appreciated bonus. They quickly established a funny little routine, during which Garak pretended to just be a simple tailor and Bashir went on pretending to be a naïve, impressionable young doctor.

Of course, there were moments when the mask was so good, even he had trouble understanding what exactly was going on.

He’d kept an eye on Bashir as he prepared for his first trip to Bajor in the dubious company of Chief O’Brien, wondering if there was more than he knew to the journey. As he watched from the shadows, the doctor looked around and then carefully opened his medical bag, seeming to rearrange some of its contents, all the while checking if he was being observed. With a predatory smile, Garak silently slithered towards him, quickly reverting to his humanoid aspect when he was just behind him.

“Doctor, how fortunate to find you here!”, he loudly announced.

As he’d hoped, Bashir jumped in surprise and his bag snapped half-open, items dropping on the floor. 

“Oh dear me! Sorry, I did not mean to startle you! Here, let me get that for you”, the Naga announced theatrically, as he bent to collect… a fluffy… brown… toy…

Before he had a chance to utter a single word, the doctor had already snatched the thing away from him and quickly, but lovingly, stored it back inside his bag with the rest of the spilled medical items. After snapping the bag shut again, the youth shyly met his eyes. When Garak offered no comment, the doctor gulped and murmured a pained: “That was Kukalaka.”

Again, the Naga could not bring himself to comment and Bashir, who seemed to genuinely suffer from a strong horror vacui when it came to conversation, braved the silence with a: “He is my teddy bear.”

When silence was again all that greeted him, he simply went on blabbering. “I’ve had him since I was a child and we’ve gone everywhere together. On holidays, school trips, the Academy, and now on Deep Space 9. I know it sounds silly, worse, childish, but I moved around so much and he’s the only constant companion I’ve ever had. And now I’m going to Bajor and it’s the first time I visit and... I don’t know… I just, I just thought that it seemed proper to bring him, that we… we...”

“… that you and Kukalaka could visit Bajor together”, Garak concluded, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. 

Relief bloomed on the doctor’s face and he excitedly responded with a “Yes! That’s exactly it! It makes sense, right?”

Garak felt an utterly serene expression settling on his features: “Absolutely!”

He wished the doctor a good trip, made plans to meet for lunch upon his return and swiftly walked to his shop, accompanied by the utter certainty that, somehow, he’d been played.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading, I would love to hear your feedback!


End file.
